


Rommath's Ritual

by Ms_Adequate



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood Elves, Coping, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, euthanize me tbqh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5293157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Adequate/pseuds/Ms_Adequate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a painful anniversary arrives, Rommath goes through his personal ritual of the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rommath's Ritual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pikestaff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikestaff/gifts).



Rommath blinked and scowled in the dawn twilight. An insistent mewling was coming from somewhere in the darkened room. Slowly pulling himself upright, he let his eyes adjust to the gloom until he spotted the offender.

“Really?” He asked of the cat. As he swung his legs out of bed he gave himself the answer, “Yes, really. Why should this morning be different from any other?” With stiffness he stood up and stretched, feeling each of his years. Making sure the cat was not throwing herself under his feet, as she occasionally rejoiced in doing, he padded softly out of the bedroom.

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m coming.” He told the creature as she ran excitedly ahead of him, meowing all the time, “Less patience than a goblin on payday.” He added sotto voce, well aware that a cat would fully understand and take offense at such an insult. Finally, he reached his destination and pulled a small package of meat out of a magically refrigerated cupboard. Making a mental note to check the condition of the frost crystals at some point soon, he sliced the meat up. As he did so the cat lost all semblance of patience and stood on her hind legs, putting her front paws against his sleeping robes and yowling, loudly.

“Would you give me a minute?” He demanded of her to no avail, “What does it look like I’m doing?” He turned to face her, and plucked her from his robes to hold her in front of his face. “All this fuss and noise just makes it harder for me to make your breakfast. You should sit quietly and wait. And yes, I know daddy is away. He’ll be home later.” He scolded her, gently settling the wriggling beast down again. At least she didn’t climb his robes as she had when she was a kitten. Placing the slices of meat in a bowl, he bent over and set it beside the water dish. The cat dived in nose-first and began audibly eating.

“No manners.” He said. Before making the long journey back up he checked the water bowl and, finding it somewhat depleted, conjured some fresh cool Draenic water for her. “There you are.” Then he stood up, wincing at the protests from his knees and lower back, but refusing to make any sound about the matter.

The earliest rays of the sun were now streaming through the circular window. Rommath walked to his study and rummaged on the desk for - ah, yes, here it is. The timepiece was a marvel of precision engineering, gifted to him by a Gnomish mage centuries ago. It not only remained functional, but perfectly so. He checked it against the astronomical charts and found that, yes, it was still accurate according to the sunrise and sunset. The charts themselves might be wrong, of course, but Rommath had confidence that the Silvermoon Royal Astronomical Society had the skills needed to ensure accuracy. They damn well better, after all - he had founded the thing.

Rommath muttered to himself as he looked again at the timepiece and then pocketed it,

“He’ll be here shortly, I suppose I should get ready.”

And so he went about the arduous task of getting ready for the day. It was not a normal day, so he donned great and intricately woven ceremonial robes and took special care to ensure his hair and eyebrows were impeccable. Looking at himself in the mirror he thought about how much younger he had once looked. Now, with hair grayed almost to ivory and heavy crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, he knew he was coming to the end of his life. Still some things to get done first though. That treatise on modern magical war strategies was his pet project, and he would see it finished. And some of the youngsters at the Quel’Thalas Academy were surprisingly promising prospects, so he would quite like to see them - especially that young Varanis Bloodvalor fellow, you only find his like once every few centuries - further along their paths before he went. Oh he was long since retired, of course, but as onetime Grand Magister and a longstanding Professor of the Academy, he felt it a duty to help guide the younger generations when he was up to the task. And time had worn down his body, but his mind was as sharp as ever. Anyway, he could still get around okay, all things considered.

As he turned away from his mirror and stood up, Rommath grumbled silently. The cat had appeared in the room and now lay on the carmine silken bed, washing herself after her meal. He allowed himself a small smile. Cats were fastidious creatures, and proud ones, personality traits he could wholly identify with. Gently petting her, he informed her that he would be away that day,

“I know I don’t usually, at the weekend, but it’s the day. I shouldn’t be terribly long I suppose, but you never know. You be good.” He headed downstairs to his parlor to await the knock at the door, which came mere seconds after he sat down in a nice, large chair. With an annoyed sigh he stood back up and made his way to the door.

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m coming!” he shouted at the insistent knocking. He opened the door and glowered at the elf who was knocking. “You know it takes me time to get around. Damned knocking, I should knock you.”

“I thought the sense of urgency might help. Get the blood flowing, you know?” The other elf replied with that damned grin he had perfected so long ago. Rommath glared for just a moment, then let his happiness break through and smiled broadly, as the two elves embraced each other tightly.

“Halduron Brightwing.” He said as though he hadn’t seen the elf for months. Then, stepping back to look at him, “You’re no spring hawkstrider yourself anymore.” Hal pulled a strand of his own hair forward to inspect it and, seeing that it was indeed quite gray, acted shocked.

“This is a spell of some sort, one of your tricks!” He accused Rommath, to the latter’s laughter,

“I assure you, my tricks would not be so crude.”

“That’s true.” Hal replied, leading the other elf to a driverless, magical carriage, “Remember when you always used to teleport Faelan’s leavings into the Windrunner’s quarters, in Dalaran?” Rommath burst out with laughter at being reminded.

“She spent months trying to find out who was doing it! No cats of her own, so she sealed her room up increasingly tightly, but it kept appearing.” He chuckled and then sighed, “Wish I could have done a lot more. Ah well.”

The carriage was conveying them along a broad boulevard, now lit by the glorious sun, towards the heart of Silvermoon City. The normally bustling city was still busy, but somehow subdued. Rommath had once tried to quantify this and come up short, knowing only that somehow the gravity of the day changed the atmosphere.

In short order they reached their destination, disembarking the carriage and walking into a small, perfectly maintained park, filled with steles and obelisks. They were inscribed, variously, with names, dates, and obituaries. They walked in silence past quite a few until they reached a larger one, at the heart of the graveyard, overlooked by a shining golden statue. The obelisk was made of crystal so pure and clear that it seemed like air, perceptible only because of the slightest hint of green that attached to the light passing through it. On the obelisk was an inscription;

 

_King Lor’themar I Theron the Restorer_  
_Farstrider_  
_Warden of the Sunwell_  
_Lord Regent of Quel’Thalas_  
_King of the sin’dorei and the quel’dorei_  
_Beloved by his people, whom he protected to the last._

 

“How long has it been?” Halduron asked, “Nine hundred and fourteen?”

“Fifteen.” Rommath said quietly.

“Been a long time.” Hal replied. He placed a hand on the monument and looked up at the statue. Lor’themar’s strong features gazed away from the park, away from the city, no doubt looking to some distant future that only he could see. Or perhaps to a threat that loomed on the horizon. “It’s us again.” He said to the statue, “Nothing much has happened since last time. We’re doing well. Your Rommath’s as wise as ever, though he could lighten up a bit, I think he’s more serious than our Rommath was back in the old days. I’m still trying to help young Lor with his archery, but I don’t have the eyes I used to. He’s doing well though, strong will, strong arm, sharp mind. He needs time to mature of course, but he’ll come good soon enough, and once it’s time he’ll wear the crown well. Looks like you used to, too. So don’t you worry, we’ve got things in hand and the Kingdom is doing well. You just get your rest.” Rommath had knelt before the obelisk and placed a hand on it himself, tracing the inscription with his fingertips. He gave the slightest start at Halduron’s hand on his shoulder.

“Long as you need.” Hal said quietly. Rommath gave a small nod and felt the other elf walk slowly back to the carriage. He knew Halduron would wait as long as he needed to, and smiled a little at the loyalty and patience.

“You know sometimes I feel selfish doing this.” He said to Lor’themar, eyes closed, “Halduron was as close a friend as I was, and a closer adviser much of the time. But then…” He stopped short, choking back the tears, “Every damned time. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. But I’m not. I’ve moved on, outside of days like this. You know that, I told you. I even asked your permission. But a day like this, it’s as painful as when… when I found you.” Rommath felt his face screw up and he couldn’t stop it as tears came, in great hiccuping coughs.

He cried for minutes, then calmed himself and carried on. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” He knew, dispassionately, that he had nothing to apologize for. He also knew that he would apologize on every anniversary of his King’s death, because there was nothing dispassionate about his feelings. But who could have known that, centuries after she was believed dead, the mad traitor Vereesa Windrunner would emerge from the shadows and murder King Lor’themar in his own study? “We had justice, though.” He said, “And it’s no comfort.”

Rommath breathed deeply and wiped his eyes. Then he tilted his head back and looked up at the golden statue of the King. “I love you.” He whispered, “And I miss you.” Then he inhaled deeply to steel himself, pulled himself to his feet, and straightened his robes. Rommath gave a curt nod to nobody, wiped his eyes a final time, and walked back to the other elf.

“You okay?” Hal said, his smile sad, his voice gentle and quiet.

“Yes.” Rommath replied. “Yes, I am.” He smiled back, fragile but feeling happy. “Thank you.”

“Always.” Halduron helped Rommath into the carriage and followed him in. It began the slow course to the palace, where King Rommath I reigned and would preside over the commemorations of his father, and the celebrations of his own ascension. This private moment was just for them, and a few others who were close to the King. In fact, Queen Mother Liadrin was arriving as they left, and they gave her friendly waves from the carriage. She smiled at them and waved back. Plenty of time later to catch up, though.

“Thank you.” Rommath said again.

“Of course.” Hal replied, taking Rommath’s hand in his own. They had long since established that on the morning of the anniversary, they would be apart, alone with their thoughts. Now that was past, and Rommath appreciated his lover’s warm hand. “But remember, when we see him again, YOU are the one who has to explain how you and me, of all people, ended up like this!” Rommath laughed heartily, and rested against Hal’s shoulder, thinking of the long course of events that had brought the two of them together.

“I love you.” He said, nestling in. Halduron placed his arm around Rommath’s shoulders and pulled him in.

“I love you too, Rommie.” Hal replied, planting a soft kiss on the other elf’s head.

Rommath knew he was coming to the end of his life, but that was okay. It had been a long one, and a worthy one. He also knew he wasn’t there yet, and still had time to do a lot of things. And that was okay as well. He smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something where Rommath is actually happy and I ended up writing something where he's still sobbing in emotional agony nine centuries later. Okay.


End file.
